


Cutting Loose

by Letterblade



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Awkward battle boners, BDSM, Bondage, Dominant Masochism, Hojojutsu, M/M, Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, aka Masamune is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterblade/pseuds/Letterblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Masamune hadn't seen Kojuro fight like that since they'd unified Oshu. And he'd been too injured then to get this heated up about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cutting Loose

**Author's Note:**

> This is set immediately after Kojuro's arc in SB4, in which Masamune was trying to get him to get angry and tear up the battlefield like he used to, and then they wind up fighting Matsunaga, who does in fact tend to induce such a state.

Kojuro had torn up the battlefield. God fucking _damn_ had he ripped through that shit, and as far as Masamune was concerned the entire wind-down and encamping that night was one interminable tease and denial, no matter how efficiently his retainer got things wrapped up. His retainer who turned to cleanup and fortification the moment victory was secure, not bothering to wipe enemy blood from his face or bandage his knuckles, still trailing ozone, clean and familiar amongst the charnel stench of enemy bombs.

He hadn't seen Kojuro fight like that since they'd unified Oshu. And he'd been too injured then to get this horny. Wouldn't give two shits if Kojuro flung him down right there in the mud in front of his men to take him, let him lick the blood off his face as he fucked him senseless, hell, it'd be glorious. But Kojuro wouldn't. Far too practical for that.

So he had to wait until they were encamped, the men settled, fed, bandaged. Kojuro moved with relentless focus, something shuttered in his face, hand resting on the sheath of his sword more than usual; Kojuro stood tall and rigid and did not smile, except for the faint, fond tug at the corner of his mouth when some of the badly wounded stabilized. Kojuro sat to drink tea and review the situation when it was done, and it was only then that Masamune could finally straddle him and grab his collar in both hands and kiss him like a starving man.

Kojuro grunted into his mouth, and set his bowl of tea down with one hand, and settled the other slowly in the small of his back.

"Come on," Masamune groaned as he broke the kiss just enough to speak, nipping his lower lip. "Don't tell me you're too tired--I'll ride you if I need to, just fuck me, I've been waiting all day."

"Lord Masamune."

He clutched Kojuro's face, flaked off dried blood with his thumbs, ground against him with the clenched groan of a man trying not to come in his pants. Kojuro's hair was still out of place--he tugged at it, messed it up more. "C'mon. Kojuro." Kojuro's hands moved, slowly, after an eternity. Came up to frame his face in return, methodically picked out the knots in his helmet ties. His gaze was steady, stern, jaw tense--not frustrated, not a rebuttal, but holding something back. Something niggling and getting in the way of very important fucking, apparently. "Spit it out."

Kojuro made a contemplative noise, busied himself lifting Masamune's helmet free and setting it aside with due care for a moment. "Lord Masamune...why is it that you enjoy my brutality?"

Masamune blinked. Folded back Kojuro's collar, started trying to peel off his coat. "Because it's hot? Ask me philosophical questions when I'm not too burning up to think straight if you want an answer, you know."

"Hot," Kojuro echoed, a touch bemused.

"Did I somehow not manage to make this clear." Free of the helmet was good, Masamune leaned in to bury his face in Kojuro's bared throat, breathed deep, sweat and leather and the stink of battle and victory.

"Sometimes even I must take a moment to adjust to your eccentricities." Which was what Kojuro had said when he was still a stripling and just getting into the habit of his dragon tongue.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a kid," Masamune muttered, and bit him. Kojuro barely reacted, some subliminal noise low in his throat that Masamune felt more than heard, with his teeth jammed into it; Kojuro's hands kept moving, slow and contemplative, and once they left the back of his neck he couldn't even feel them through his armor. "Get me out of this, get me out of my armor right now, fucking hell, Kojuro, you're mine."

That lodged somewhere, he could tell, always good when Kojuro was playing implacable. "As always." Masamune didn't look up, didn't left his head, could feel nothing but the nudge at his breastplate, the familiar weight of his swords eventually lifting off his hips. Silence as Kojuro reverently folded the dragon webs and laid them aside--he'd never rush taking his swords off, even with his lord chewing on his neck. The rest of the armor, at least, he'd hurry a little, yanking ties loose on limbs and chest and thighs, a scatter of peeled off dragon scales.

"All of it," Masamune bit out.

Kojuro loosened the ties of his pants and sleeves with practiced ease, stripped him with brutal efficiency that barely even left him time to try to grope him. Pulled his white undershirt over his head so fast it nearly yanked his eyepatch off. Met his gaze with narrowed eyes, almost as if appraising something, and--expressionless--caught the front of his fundoshi in one hand, and tore it open like gauze.

"Shit," Masamune swore, giddy, swaying closer to Kojuro as even more blood rushed to his cock. Kojuro was still fully dressed, only his coat askew; Masamune pressed himself against him and felt the scales of his armor bite his bare chest, the butter-worn leather of his gloves tracing dirty over his skin, fuck he was so painfully close to coming.

"Shall I strip as well?"

Masamune laughed, low and wild. "I don't know, what do you think?"

Kojuro was silent for a moment, hand settling on his ass, almost casual. "You seem satisfied with this."

"Good answer," Masamune growled.

"Lord Masamune, you wish--"

"Cut loose." He grabbed the coat collar, dragged him in to kiss him hard and hungry, reached down with his other hand to grind the heel of it into the crotch of Kojuro's pants--felt burning heat. Harder than likely either of them had realized, more than ripe for groping through thick white cotton, the hitch in Kojuro's breath gratifying as hell. Masamune broke the kiss to gasp for air. "Cut the fuck loose. How long've you had this? Since the battle?"

Kojuro was very, very still under his hand, eyes closed, and Masamune could all but _feel_ the tightly contained power crackling through him.

"No shame in enjoying a party," Masamune murmured, taking silence for an answer.

"I feel little shame," Kojuro said flatly, not that Masamune was sure whether to believe him. "I would simply not be content, to live like that day to day."

Masamune blinked, toyed with a stray strand of hair, couldn't stop stroking him with his other hand even if he wanted to--a little handjob could make an unwantedly serious conversation go a long way. "Sure. 'S not all of you, I know that. But _all_ of you is mine, got it?"

Kojuro gave some tiny, raw noise as Masamune squeezed his cock, not exactly gently. Settled one hand on the back of his neck, clutching a a little tight. "Do you wish me to hurt you, then, Lord Masamune?"

He felt a grin tugging at his mouth, sharp. "You know what I can take, you know what I like. Surprise me. Just stop holding back on me. If there's some part of you that wants to tear me up, let it go." Didn't even need to say how absolutely he trusted him. They both knew that.

"There is no part of me that wishes you harm. Not ever."

Masamune huffed; he damn well knew that, they both did, but if Kojuro needed to say it, well. "Yeah, what about the part that wants to hear me scream in the best way when you throw me down and fuck me. C'mon, we both know you like that--you really think you're too riled up for me to handle? That you of all people could do me harm, _you_?"

Kojuro was far, far too self-controlled to buck into his hand at that, but fuck, he could feel the jolt go through him. Kojuro framed his face in both his hands and shoved bangs out of the way with his thumbs and looked him in the eye, and Masamune stared back unyielding and kept right on playing with his cock. "Don't be stupid," he added, low, after a moment. "Make it hot for both of us, got it?"

Kojuro was silent; after a moment his hands moved, shoved Masamune up to stand so that he could stand himself. Caught one of his hands, turned it over to rest his thumb on the tendons of his wrist, light, almost reverent.

"I trust you will stop me if I displease you, Lord Masamune."

"Heh. I trust _you._ "

Nothing more needed to be said, really.

But hell, Masamune was actually, honest-to-fuck surprised when the next time Kojuro's hand moved, it was to flick a noose out of his coat sleeve to snap around Masamune's wrist. He always carried capture ropes into battle, and elsewhere--hell, Masamune knew well from a few rounds with enemy shinobi what kind of agony Kojuro could inflict with just a few lengths of cord and his bare hands, and damn if it wasn't hypnotizing to watch. Kojuro had bound him before, of course, after a few rounds of badgering, but never like this. Never like he'd take down an enemy as prisoner, biting thin cord run with no knots so it would tighten at the slightest struggle, forcing submission through pain, or worse.

He gave him about a second to stop him.

"Blast off," Masamune muttered with a huge grin.

Kojuro closed the distance in an instant, grabbing his arm crushing tight, jerking him around to fold it behind him and drag his hand as far up his spine as it would go--and then the cord snapped snug round the base of his throat.

"Fuck--" His breath left him in a ragged groan of sheer abandon, and by the time he caught it again, Kojuro was already looping rope around his upper arms, pinning them to his sides, right on the nerve cluster to hurt like hell if it pulled. Then his other wrist, twisted up behind him and hooked to the noose around his neck, and it was done. No knots. He'd seen men choke themselves unconscious, bound like this, or numb their arms and hands; he'd seen Kojuro leave the trailing end tied tight to a rafter until they begged for mercy from the strain. He'd never seen anyone escape.

He'd also never seen anyone hard to bursting and muttering _fuck yes_ as they tried to back into the man binding them, but, well, this was a special kind of party.

Kojuro clamped his right arm across his chest, pinning him, and he heard the soft hiss of metal leaving its sheath. His wakizashi, spun in his hand and thrust point-down in the ground, the oath facing them both, as if standing watch.

"If you struggle enough to hurt yourself, I _will_ cut you free and end this." Kojuro's voice was low, flat, tight around the edges in ways he didn't hear often.

Masamune grinned against the cord digging into his throat, breathless, ground his ass against Kojuro's cock. "Now there's a threat."

"I am glad you understand, Lord Masamune." Kojuro traced one gloved finger over his throat, tender, reverent. Masamune shuddered with raw, desperate _want_ and humped thin air.

And then Kojuro let him go, sudden, spun him around to face him, and stepped on the trailing end of the cord. Masamune felt his eye widen as his legs folded under him like a puppet's--he'd seen men go down like this, bent to their knees and supplicant, and thought they'd gone easy, but his body had ideas of its own now that somebody had a noose around its neck. Instincts. Hell, he wasn't leashed by rope, he was leashed by his instinct to _live_ , and that--that was a much, much stronger bond. A bond worthy of him and Kojuro. Couldn't live without him, couldn't go more than a few feet from his side and keep his life. He was laughing, bright and wild, couldn't help his grin, this was fucking perfect. Laughing even when Kojuro dragged the cord a touch tighter with a slide of his foot, forcing his head back and an arch in his spine, blood roaring in his ears.

Laughing that turned into a choked moan as Kojuro gently, gently brushed hair out of the way and peeled the eyepatch off his face, baring his weakness. More than naked now. He couldn't even turn away from it, couldn't move his head at all. Clawed at air with his bound hands and whined as Kojuro bent to kiss the very scar he'd left. Fuck, he couldn't even name what it did to him when Kojuro did that sort of thing. Just that it made his gut clench with how much he needed him.

"Kojuro...fuck, Kojuro, give it to me..."

"Not yet," Kojuro said flatly, and leaned behind him to loop the cord around his ankles, tight against the tendons, hooking them back to the noose around his neck along with everything else and trapping him on his knees. "You won't last as you are, Lord Masamune."

_Lord_ \--as if nothing had changed just because he was naked, bound, kneeling between Kojuro's legs. Well. Nothing _had_ changed, had it? Masamune squirmed just a little, felt the cord tighten round his neck at the slightest movement, stopped--he'd flip a table if this ended right now. "Then just fuck me through it-- _strike_ , Kojuro, you know I can take--"

Kojuro caught a fistful of his hair and leaned to kiss him, hard, any harder and they'd both be bleeding. Masamune groaned and kissed back, voice stifled, would have damn well humped his leg if he could reach, but of course he couldn't--

Kojuro's other hand closed around his aching cock, leather grip delicious strange. Slid easier than he might have expected, he was so hard he was leaking. Masamune made wild noises into his mouth, bucked his hips into his hand, at least as much as he could with the cord holding him back, puppet-strings on all his limbs. Kojuro jerked him fast, hard, perfect, the exact swipe of his thumb over the head that he _knew_ drove him crazy. Shit, he couldn't hold on like this, not with other Kojuro's hand tightening in his hair, the kiss devouring deep--

\--for a moment he could barely breathe, and then he was coming so hard his head pounded and his skin tingled, entirely beyond his control, body spasming painfully in his bonds, screaming into Kojuro's mouth.

"Fuck...fuck..." Somewhere Kojuro broke off the kiss and let him breathe; he was dizzy from orgasm and a rush like battle high, pain and danger leaving him exultant, stunned and grinning to split his face. A strong hand on his shoulder, guiding him, the muscled length of Kojuro's leg a solid wall to lean against as he let the cord slacken a touch. The other hand nudging his head up to study his face, and he studied right back--Kojuro's eyes just a little bit wild, a clench in his jaw and a swallow as he tenderly brushed hair away from Masamune's temples.

"Get in me or I'll chew your pants off and get you off that way," Masamune muttered.

Kojuro said nothing for a long moment; Kojuro just dragged the cord snug again with a snap of his wrist, and Masamune's breath caught and he went very still against his leg, still grinning.

"You'll not get what you truly want right now if you have a say in it, Lord Masamune--am I right?"

"What did I say about trusting you."

It was enough of an answer for Kojuro. Enough of an answer to pull out another hank of cord, pry Masamune's jaw open with his thumb, and shove it between his teeth. "Don't spit it out unless you've had enough."

_Enough of what_ , Masamune tried to say, but it came out something more like _mrrwff ef fwaf_ \--damn him, Kojuro knew how to rile him up. And unhook the loops around his ankles in a few seconds and drag him back to his feet almost bodily, leaving him scrabbling his legs back under him as the cord tightened. He stood close, close enough to feel the heat coming off his body and the leather of his coat and armor against his bare skin, off arm around him and bracing his back, cord wrapped around that fist to keep him snugly leashed. Ran his fingertips over the muscles of his chest, marking where the bruises were from the battle, as if mapping something Masamune couldn't fathom.

"Forgive me, my Lord," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Offwe fuchs saa--"

Kojuro's fist landed solid on his chest, a hard smack of leather against bare flesh that drove the wind from him, half with surprise. The blow swayed him, more sheer force than actual pain, and battle-haze rushed in its wake, the familiar tingle of his body coming alive, muzzy in the wake of orgasm, overwhelmingly intoxicating when he was bound--couldn't run, couldn't fight, could do nothing but feel it. He flung his head back and panted round the wad of rope in his mouth, and when Kojuro caught his face to study it again, he traced a finger along the corner of his mouth, along his _grin_. Fuck, he couldn't even yell at him not to stop.

But at least Kojuro seemed to get the idea. He let his head sag to watch the next blow, curious--he barely wound up, a handspan or two, driving his fist into the meat of his muscle with perfect accuracy. A little harder, a jolt of pain, a dull ache--nowhere close to actually hurting, just the sort of burn that left him hotter. A third blow, a fourth that broke the slow, steady rhythm, and he moaned like he was getting blown and gnawed on the rope. Wouldn't spit it out for the life of him. Wouldn't be surprised if he got hard again just from this.

_Knew_ he would once he picked up his head and met Kojuro's eyes. His focus, keen, absolute, as if Masamune was the only thing in the world. Raw heat, his breath coming harsh as he worked--in rhythm with his fist, in rhythm with Masamune groaning and swaying and clawing the air, like they were two halves of the same body. Foot sliding in concert with his as Masamune braced to take the blows and stay on his feet, arm tightening around him as he struck. The third time he struck the same spot it started to burn, reddening with a deep, deep ache; the fourth time Masamune growled with pain and didn't stop, giddy, blood hot.

Not that he lazed there and took it for long. A little, maybe, hypnotized by the look on Kojuro's face, drunk on the rush of pain. Hard to predict the blows; he was shaking up the rhythm, there was so little wind-up that he didn't telegraph shit, and Masamune's first impudent attempts at dodging were cut short by a single flick of Kojuro's thumb on the cord. Even bound and naked, he couldn't resist some semblance of a fight--of course Kojuro knew that. Caught his dodges with a fist to the chest, boxed him in, gave him no room to play. Masamune felt his heart pounding, grinned savage and toothy round the rope in his mouth, brought his feet into it. Kojuro punched his leg right back down in the meat of his thigh, jammed a knee against his to keep him off balance--barely off balance, still on his feet but no chance to kick. Fucking masterful, how quickly he shut him down.

Shut him down and kept right at him, wordless, breath rasping as he locked one of Masamune's legs between both of his, kept him close, so close they could almost kiss. Fist in the thigh of his other leg every time he tried to wriggle free, harder, until sweat stuck hair to his forehead and he sounded far, far more like he was getting fucked, raw groans at every blow, chest heaving, body loose and burning hot. Hard again against Kojuro's hip, faster than he'd even expected, moaning filth made unintelligible, until he gave something like a clenched scream and bulled against him, battle instincts raw and wild no matter how much he loved it, and a strong arm pulled him embracing close against hot leather as he stumbled off balance, slumped against his chest, good eye turned into him and heart pounding--

\--and Kojuro dragged the hank of rope from his teeth even as he snarled and tried to cling to it.

"Don't you dare stop now you basta--"

Kojuro tossed the hank aside, swiped his legs out from under him, and dropped him on his face. Carefully, an arm latched around him to guide him down so he didn't choke himself, but so fast it felt like he was falling anyway. Sweet, sweet ache through his chest as he landed, hard cock trapped between his belly and the dirt.

"I'm not stopping," Kojuro growled, going right down with him and shoving a knee against his thigh to spread his legs, and he heard the pop of a cork.

"About--fucking time--" Masamune bucked back against him and groaned as he felt slick fingers smearing oil down the cleft of his ass. Still with his gloves on, strange and rough against tender, tender skin--the leather would be even more buttery tomorrow, no doubt. Rustle of cloth, Kojuro shoving his own pants down, pause, his muscled weight settling on his legs. And the head of his cock nudging his ass, right out of the gate. Masamune gasped, strained, almost laughed. "Don't want to get your gloves that dirty, huh, Kojuro?"

Everything was slick, at least, slick as hell. Kojuro dug fingers into his hips, controlling them, Masamune could barely move an inch. "I know you can take this." He moved slow, inexorably slow, unyielding pressure to spread him open; Masamune felt a long, wild cry building in his throat, gave it voice, cool be damned.

"Hell, Kojuro, of course I can-- _fffuck_ \--shit, yes, give it to me, you'd better not take this slow now, damn it, Koju--"

The breath left him with a ragged, joyous shout as Kojuro snapped his hips forward, sliding home to the hilt the moment he'd opened enough to let him in. It burned, a few seconds of hot cramping as he writhed under him, heedless of the cord biting at him--at least until Kojuro caught him by the back of the neck and shoved his face into the ground to pin him, keeping him from hurting himself, even now. It'd ache in the morning, but fuck, it was delicious, and Kojuro gave him only a few bare seconds to adjust before he pulled out to slam back in, driving Masamune into the ground with the sheer force of it.

Masamune all but roared in answer, tried to dig his toes into the ground to roll over--fuck, he wanted to see Kojuro's face right now, but his full weight was on top of him, he strained until the blood pounded in his ears and couldn't throw him off. And it kept pounding, a roar as his face grew hot, the cord tightened by Kojuro's weight on him, Kojuro fucking him far, far harder than he'd punched him. Nowhere near passing out but damn, he was soaring somewhere wild, skimming the edge, life burning in Kojuro's hands--

Something shoved one of his legs up, bent under him, and the cord bit into his knee, trapping him with his ass up, leaving Kojuro with an easy-access angle that made him all but scream--and then he did scream, nothing but a garble of Kojuro's name and fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , because he'd snaked an arm under his shoulder, clamped tight to hold him as he pounded him, and folded his hand over his left eye.

The world was gone, the world was Kojuro. Beaten dirt ground into his knees and chest, and Kojuro clutched him so tight that even his hardest thrusts barely rocked him. He could smell dried blood and leather, he could feel his breath hot on the back of his neck, his face buried there, lips pressed against his nape, almost tender. He couldn't _see_ , fear gnawed his gut and twisted up with arousal into something new and glorious, about the only fear he actually ever felt, and he couldn't stop screaming in exhilaration.

"Lord Masamune," was a low, low and ragged murmur in his ear, and he could feel deep shudders running through Kojuro's body, and then he was being shifted a little, bodily, Kojuro readjusting his grip so he could reach one hand down to his cock. Still covering his eye, still crushing him against his chest, and when his hand closed round his cock Masamune _howled_ , shook violently as he started jerking him in time with his thrusts, out of his mind with pleasure. Fuck, he wanted to take it all, forever, but the cord dragged a hair tighter around his throat and another jolt of wild excitement ran through him and the limits of his endurance hit him like a wall out of nowhere--

Of course, of course Kojuro had the meticulous control to hold back his own orgasm until Masamune came. His low rattle and groan lost in Masamune's screams, but he could feel the spasms running through him, wet heat blooming inside him even as he thrashed and screamed and came with violent ecstasy.

He could barely move for a few moments afterwards, boneless, gasping for air like he'd just taken on a whole battlefield. Kojuro was still, almost eerily still, scarred cheek against the nape of his neck as they both caught their breath, dazed in the wake of an explosion.

"Fuck...fuck...nn, Kojuro, f'cking incredible..."

Kojuro slowly, gently peeled his hand off his eye. Lamplight flared bright for a moment; the world blurred, jarring. Masamune made some ragged noise, and butted his cheek into Kojuro's hand, limp in his arms. Could barely think for a few moments as Kojuro loosened the cord trapping his knee and slowly, slowly slid out of him, leaving him raw and hollow.

Light sparked in his vision, light flickering on metal, and the carved characters of the oath swam before his eyes as Kojuro pressed the blade of his wakizashi feather-light to his throat and cut him free, parting the cord without drawing a drop of blood.

"...mmnow you're just showing off."

"Mm." Kojuro didn't exactly refute it. Sheathed his sword, tugged the rest of the cord free quick and easy, guided his arms down to his sides as he groaned from the ache of strained muscles moving, slowly rolled him onto his back. Masamune flopped, slowly stretched out his arms, contented grin splitting his face.

Kojuro lightly smoothed aside the hair plastered to his forehead before reaching to repurpose Masamune's torn fundoshi, wiping his soiled gloves off before peeling them away, tidying. Settling on his knees, stance wide as always, slowly shrugging free of his coat and armor, breathing deep and deliberate.

"Oi." Masamune pawed at his leg. "You okay?"

Kojuro paused, as if not sure how to answer, until Masamune pawed at him again. "I...am not entirely sure, Lord Masamune. Are you--"

"I'm _fine_. Fucking incredible, I mean, shit, that was fantastic."

The bare, bare trace of a smile as Kojuro's gaze softened. Masamune rolled slowly over onto his lap, felt his fingers knead gently along his arm, easing the ache.

"You like building things up," he murmured. "Growing them. Because you've got so much potential destruction nested in you."

Kojuro's hand stilled, along with his breathing, but he said nothing.

"But that wasn't destruction." Masamune settled, stuck his face in the solid muscle of his side, inhaled. "You made me. You ain't gonna break me."

Kojuro breathed in, slow, breathed out, slower. And said, very quietly, "I could. Because I made you."

"Couldn't."

His voice tightened. "I mean that I know your weak points, what it would take, and that it is within my capabilities."

"I mean that you _couldn't._ " He lifted his head a little, looked up at Kojuro. Well, mostly at his chin. "Not wouldn't. Couldn't. You'd break first."

"...ah."

"So stop fussing. You're fine."

He could _feel_ Kojuro draw a deep breath, settle a hand on his shoulders, relax.

"You are quite right, Lord Masamune."

"Hah. Course I am." He grabbed his hand, gnawed it lightly, let it go. "Besides, you damn well thought that was hot too, I could see your eyes burning."

Kojuro tolerated it. Reached, once he had his hands free, to reel in his coat and settle it, still warm from his body, over Masamune's bare back. "Only because of the flame in yours."

"Liked seeing me all messed up, huh?"

Kojuro cracked another little trace of smile, the biggest he'd seen on him all day. "Your enjoyment is ample reward."

Masamaune laughed. "And there was a _hell_ of a lot of it, believe me."

"I noticed."


End file.
